Under The Mistletoe
by Basmathgirl
Summary: What happens under the mistletoe STAYS under the mistletoe; or so the signs says. Shame it is so potent on a date-that's-not-a-date.


**Disclaimer:** Oh to be able to say I own this pair! *adds them to my wish list again*  
**A/N:** Written for the **bad_wolf_rising** Christmas Ficathon 2012, on LiveJournal.

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**Under The Mistletoe**

.

"Oh my God!" Donna gasped out as she fought for breath. "That has to be one of the most… Wow!"

"Wow?" the Doctor repeated in question, and grinned smugly.

"Okay, not wow," she quickly amended. "Not bad."

"Not bad!" he cried, obviously deeply insulted. "Good grief woman! What does it take to impress you?"

"Ermm…" She scrunched up her face as she thought deeply about that. Finally she landed on a possible answer. "I'd be impressed if you went all night."

He frowned back at her. "Why would I want to leave you alone all night?"

She swatted his arm. "That's not what I meant, you prawn! I was referring to the possibility that a bloke could… you know… _go _all night." She added in a motion that looked remarkably as though she were impersonating a train wheel.

He watched the action with renewed interest. "What's the wheels on the bus got to do with this conversation?" he innocently asked.

"No, you blithering idiot! I'm not auditioning for Blue Peter here. I'm talking about…," she unaccountably swept her gaze around the room as though searching for an eavesdropper, "…sex."

"Sounds reasonable, seeing as we've just had passionate…" His next words were muffled by Donna clamping a hand firmly over his mouth.

"Do you have to inform the whole world?!" she hissed at him.

He lifted up a hand and used it to remove his gag. "I don't think I need to, considering the amount of noise you were making just now as we…"

"Shh!" she hastily hushed him. "And don't try that one on me. YOU were the one making a racket!"

"I was not!" he contradicted. "I was merely adding a personal commentary to the proceedings."

"Like how?" she demanded to know, arching a disbelieving eyebrow at him. "I didn't hear any words; just loads of grunting and huffing."

He went to adjust his tie, realised he wasn't wearing nowhere enough to warrant such an action, and aimed for rubbing his neck instead. "It depends what language you are referring to exactly. There are some languages out in the Plactic Archilon that use all manner of nonverbal sounds in order to communicate."

She growled at him in anger. "Trust you to pretend you are talking some foreign language rather than a load of mumbo jumbo. I've got your number, mate!"

"Which one am I? Number one in your top one hundred?" he teased, with more abandon than he should have done.

"How many do you think I've had?" she asked him in hurt tones. "Do you really think I'm that much of a slapper?"

Oh dear! How should he answer that one? "I erm… I assumed you were reasonably experienced," he admitted. "Otherwise, why would we be lying here beneath the mistletoe like this, stark naked after we've thingy."

"Thingy?!" she repeated in incredulity.

"Well, you keep stopping me say the word sex as though it'll conjure up Beetlejuice or something!" he griped.

"I kept stopping you because my mother is upstairs and she's got the hearing of a police dog when it suits her," Donna huffed back.

"Oh," he responded.

"Oh indeed," she agreed.

He glanced upwards to wherever Sylvia was currently sleeping; hopefully soundly. "Just for the record, it's your fault because you started it."

"I did not!" she protested. "Tell me how I started it when you grabbed me and started ripping my clothes off."

"Nice to hear you admitting it," he said smugly. "I grabbed you because you did the thing."

"The thing?"

"You know; the thing," he insisted.

Now she was completely puzzled. "What thing? I have no idea what your addled brain is on about."

"You did the thing with your…"

Somehow she could guess that the gesture he did pertained to her breasts; so she looked down at them accusingly. "These did that? How do I know when they are doing it, and how do I stop them?"

"Oh, you can't," he remarked decisively. "They do it all the time."

"Okay… If that's so; and I'm not for a second saying I believe or agree with you; how come it has taken until today for you to react in the way you did?" she wondered.

"Ah, there's the added effect of that," he said, pointing up to the tiny bunch of mistletoe hanging from the light fitting in the middle of the ceiling.

"You don't half talk shite!" she exclaimed. "Are you seriously telling me that a naff piece of plastic in the shape of mistletoe hanging from a hideously covered light bulb has some powerful aphrodisiacal hold over your body? You are having a laugh!"

The Doctor leaned in very close and murmured, "I am not laughing; I am being deadly serious. That 'naff piece of plastic', as you so lovingly called it, has a very responsive and seductive effect on my libido. So much so, that I could easily take your body right this second. In fact, I can hardly hold myself back from running my tongue across your skin, starting with your exquisite breasts, as I ease myself into you and move within your body. I am ready and very willing to do anything to entice you into letting me taste _every _part of you."

Donna gulped to hide her astonishment when he practically drooled over the dip in her skin next to her neck as he slid even closer. "I… well… it would be churlish of me to deny you all that when you obviously have needs," she confessed softly. "Would it take long?"

"I can be as quick, or as slow as you like," he purred, gently pushing them back down onto the floor so that he could settle over her. "We have all night to explore this."

"Then let's make the most of our time," she reasoned, and guided his lips onto hers; allowing him to drink her in.

Mistletoe, like a fine wine, should never be hurried, after all.

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**A/N2:** Will somebody _please_ take away these plot bunnies that insist I write the lead up to this! I'll go back to writing my other requested fics now...


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